


one does not scratch only the surface

by akajung



Series: i want to be less lonely [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 11:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akajung/pseuds/akajung
Summary: Youngho doesn't look like he'd enjoy reading Shakespeare in his spare time, but he does. Taeil doesn't look like he'd kiss Youngho first, but he does.





	one does not scratch only the surface

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually set a few while before crowing navy and spinning faster, because i suck at making timeline.
> 
> Enjoy!

Youngho really wants to know his name. The boy who sits across him in the library, that is.

He’s on his third visit this week. The library is a nice place to go to because it’s mostly quiet, and here he can avoid Jaehyun’s judgmental stare whenever he’s reading Hamlet. Hey, it’s not his fault that he likes Shakespeare, okay? There’s a reason why the poet is still popular throughout the ages. There’s no one who’s never heard of Shakespeare before. Youngho doesn’t understand why Jaehyun, supposedly a proper and decent Literature major student, refuses to even touch any of his works. Jaehyun is a sordid anomaly, that much is obvious. Youngho wants to kick him off his list of buddies, but then it would only leave him with only Taeyong as a friend, which is deplorable.

Anyway, here he is, sitting on the cheap plastic chair on the furthest table in the campus library. It’s around 2 PM, past lunch, when Youngho usually has his Jaehyun-free time. The kid is probably off screwing around with Yuta or Ten or whoever else that he’s friends with.

(Youngho is most definitely _not_ bitter that Jaehyun has more friends than him, no, not at all.)

He’s always sitting at this particular chair because it’s placed right next to the big window. Youngho continuously makes sure he has enough light to read, or else he’ll just get uncomfortable. Also, he feels like he’s being rude to Shakespeare if he reads one of his works in a poorly lit room. That’s just straight up offensive. Youngho knows how to appreciate masterpieces, and it’s not by reading it somewhere he can’t feel every inch of excellence etched on the words.

Maybe he’s overrating Shakespeare a bit, but he’s not going to admit that alive.

He’s been living this new habit of reading in the library past lunch time for around half a month now, and it’s just going all fine and dandy. Except that somewhere, somewhen in between those two weeks, Youngho suddenly realized that he’s not alone in that furthest table near the window. There’s always someone sitting there across of him. It’s the same person every time.

It won’t actually bother Youngho much if there isn’t literally _five_ fucking other tables in the library, all vacant. The boy always chooses to sit across of Youngho, and by across, exactly in front of him. If they both put their hands on the table, the tip of their fingers would only be inches apart.

Youngho can’t quite get his mind wrapped around the idea of sitting so closely to a stranger in a relatively empty public place. Well, if it was _him_ , Youngho would pick the second table from the window, at least. It’s still as bright there. And it’s empty, too. He won’t just sit his ass down near someone he doesn’t know, what if they think he’s creepy? _Common logic works wonder,_ _Youngho_ , he tells himself this, as he steals a glance past the top of his book at the boy in front of him.

The boy has a small stature. Maybe if they were standing side by side, he would only reach Youngho’s neck. His face is delicate, not strikingly handsome (Youngho lives with Taeyong. He knows _exactly_ when someone is strikingly handsome) but he’s not unattractive, either. His facial features are soft, almost mellow: dull-shaped eyes, soft-looking skin, a straight mouth. His hair is fluffy and fading red in color, and Youngho has this strange urge to run his fingers through the boy’s strands the first time he sees him. He doesn’t, of course, what is he even thinking? The boy is always clothed in button up shirts, long-sleeved and plain. Sometimes he wears reading glasses, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he’s reading print-outs, sometimes he splays a notebook and writes on it. Sometimes he plugs one ear with an earphone, sometimes he rests his chin on his hand as he reads. He never makes a sound.

Overall, he looks just like your typical quiet, collected college student.

But there’s just so much details that Youngho has needlessly ingrained on the back of his mind, and after a month just sitting in front of each other, really, he’s just curious. There’s nothing else as to why he suddenly blurts out one day, “You’ve been here for awhile.”

Youngho said _awhile_ , like he’s only implying that the boy has sat there only for the last fifteen minutes or something. Which isn’t the case. He’s been there far, far longer, always silent, and Youngho has lost track of how many times they’ve actually shared this particular table.

Anyway, there’s a long pause after that, which makes Youngho wonder if the boy hasn’t heard him, or worse, if he’s ignoring Youngho out of spite, but then he replies, “Yes.”

His voice is kind. It strongly reminds Youngho of the way primary school teachers speak to their students somehow: tender and lenient, always tolerant.

“And you’re always sitting there,” Youngho continues. The moment it left his mouth, he startles. That just now sounded really rude, as if Youngho doesn’t want him there sitting so close to him. He wrecks his mind, trying to find the proper words to fix the situation, but the boy doesn’t even look up from his notebook.

“Yes,” he says again, still with that gentle voice. Then he adds, “It’s the brightest here.”

Oh. _Oh_. Now everything makes sense.

“’Course,” Youngho says dumbly, and he’s still staring at the boy until he remembers that he has a book in his hands, waiting to be read. He quickly drops his gaze and tries to immerse himself back to Hamlet’s torment. His concentration lasts exactly three minutes, because by then, his phone vibrates inside of his pocket and Youngho fishes it out.

 

 ****  
_From: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_Where the fuck are you CW almost starts_

 

“Holy shit!” Youngho curses out loud as he stands, his chair pushed back in an irritating screech. “Holy fucking shit!”

He shoves his phone back to his pocket and grabs his bag, hurriedly smacking Hamlet to a close in panic and jostling it inside. He slings the bag over his shoulder and pushes the chair back forward, before running away from the library, as fast as his feet can take him.

He arrives in class literal seconds before the professor does, and Jaehyun throws him a look of mixed disgust and pity when Youngho settles down a chair next to him.

“Let me guess,” he says. “Hamlet?”

Youngho nods, not answering in words because he’s too busy catching his breath. He sinks back in his chair, stretching his long legs out. “Polonius is dead, Hamlet just found him.”

“Aaaaand I give no shit,” Jaehyun says, turning his attention back to the front, where the professor has just started talking about a new project assignment. “Don’t talk to me ever again.”

And this shit is why Youngho dubs Jaehyun as an unfeeling asshole when Jaehyun is comparatively a friendly person: he’s always so disinterested in Shakespeare, always brushing the matter off easily. Youngho could’ve taken his responses so far as something offensive, but he doesn’t, because he’s not that immature. It still pisses him off from time to time, though, even if he’s used to it.

“Where were you at lunch?” Youngho asks, fifteen minutes later, after his initial irritation has faded. “You weren’t at the cafeteria, so I didn’t eat there.”

“Taking care of some stuff with Ten,” Jaehyun says, eyes forward as he writes down the professor’s explanation. “Basketball stuff. And you could’ve eaten with someone else. Your roommate, for example. What’s his name?”

“Taeyong.”

“Yeah, Taeyong. Why didn’t you eat with him?”

“I never feel like it,” Youngho says. “Maybe I’m bored of him. I fucking live with him, Jaehyun, do I have to see him at lunch, too?”

Jaehyun suddenly smiles. “People will start thinking we’re dating if you don’t hang out with someone else, Youngho, and I have a reputation to maintain.”

Youngho snickers. “Oh, Jung Jaehyun, the shit you say.”

Jaehyun laughs, too. “But I’m serious, dude. Someone even asked me yesterday if we were dating. God, you should’ve seen my face.”

“’S that so?” Youngho cocks an eyebrow, grinning. “Are we really that close, Jung? Who was it that’s stupid enough to even think we’re dating?”

“I don’t think you know him. He’s Ten’s roommate, a Psychology student. Asked me if I’m seeing you. I said, _what, of course I’m seeing Youngho, we share a class three times a week_. He said that wasn’t what he meant.”

“So what is it that he meant?”

“He asked me if I’m _dating_ you, like, romantically and sexually involved with you, you know? I know, right, ugh. So I was like, _the fuck you saying?_ Then Ten came to the rescue,” Jaehyun continues his story, and Youngho laughs again. Jaehyun can be so funny sometimes, Youngho can’t stay mad at him for long. “The thing is, he never strikes me as the type to ask things like that. It’s just… kinda weird.”

“What kind of type is him, then?”

Jaehyun hummed, his concentration is undoubtedly being split between listening to the professor and answering Youngho’s question. “Quiet, mostly. He doesn’t talk much. He’s mature, though, that’s for sure. I mean he’s majoring in Psychology, man. Those lot _reads_ human beings for a living.”

“Why does he sound so scary?” Youngho contemplates out loud, scratching the back of his head. He wonders how does it feel to have a Psychology major as a roommate. Taeyong is enough problem as he is, with all the scolding and passive aggressive invitations to clean every weekends, but otherwise he’s harmless. Rooming with someone that’s always quiet and can possibly read through all of him with ease—now that’s frightening.

“He’s not,” Jaehyun says, chortling. “You tend to be scared of the quiet ones, Youngho. He’s not scary. He’s actually a really caring senior. Do you want me to introduce him to you?”

“Why?”

“ _Why?_ Seo Youngho, he asked me if we’re dating, which could only mean he’s interested in either me or you. And I’m sure as hell it’s not me, because if I was the one he’s interested in, he wouldn’t have asked me directly.”

“Are you sure you’re a Lit major? You sounded like a Psychology major just now.”         

Youngho doesn’t know why Jaehyun suddenly drops his pen and sighs audibly.

“Not all of us are tactless, Youngho. I may be an unfeeling asshole to you, but I’m not insensitive,” Jaehyun says, throwing him a dirty look, to which Youngho replies by making kissy faces. “Also, you missed my fucking point.”

“Which is?”

“He might be interested in you?” Jaehyun offers, glancing at him for a second before looking back at the professor again.

Youngho hums in wonder, but he doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what to say, honestly. Someone might be interested in him? It’s not all that surprising. Youngho is Chicago-born. He grew up in a bustling city that never sleeps; he’s used to attention. He’s familiar with both asking out _and_ getting asked out. He may not be painfully beautiful like Taeyong, or conveniently handsome like Jaehyun, but Youngho knows for a fact that his looks aren’t bad. His looks aren’t bad _at all_. He owns a fucking mirror, so he knows.

So what if one guy is interested in him? He’s not immediately expected to do something about it, now, isn’t he? His immediate response is, _well, if he wants a piece of this ass, he better comes to me first_. Not that Youngho is expecting anything; if there’s something that he could derive from Jaehyun’s recent depiction, it’s that this guy doesn’t seem like he’ll ever approach someone first. Good thing? Bad thing? Youngho doesn’t know.

“I know that face,” Jaehyun says, after the both of them quit talking for a few minutes. “You’re considering it. Come on, Youngho, when was the last time you get laid?”

Youngho snorts. “I have no obligation to tell you any of that, kid.”

“I’m your best friend, you fucking loser, but fine, I’ll correct myself. When was the last time you went out on a date? Or kissed someone, at least?”

That was easier to answer. “Last month?” Youngho replies, but his tone sounds unsure even to himself. He really doesn’t remember. “Or maybe last Christmas?”

Jaehyun looks like he’s close to whacking Youngho’s face with his pen. “You’re hopeless,” he finally decides, and he doesn’t talk to Youngho again until the class ends.

 

Youngho only remembers about the boy in the library when he’s about to go there again for his quiet, no-Jaehyun Hamlet reading session. While he’s climbing the stairs to the second floor, lunch long forgotten, Youngho wonders if the light-haired boy will be there again today.

Youngho’s in luck. Library boy is indeed present. He’s sitting in the same place as always, with a few papers expanded in front of him, and _now_ Youngho ponders, has it always been him who arrives first? Or has it Youngho who’s always arrived first?

It isn’t even important, but Youngho is still mulling over this as he sits down tentatively in front of library boy. He doesn’t even show any signs that he notices someone has occupied the seat in front of him.

Youngho doesn’t know why he feels rather nervous. He’s been sitting here far longer than library boy, and before he looked up and noticed his presence somewhere back in time, they were doing just fine, ignoring each other’s presence. _He_ was doing just fine. So why does he feel so agitated? Now, of all time?

He almost jumps out of his chair when library boy suddenly says, “Hello.”

“God, you surprised me,” Youngho exclaims, clutching at his chest. He didn’t mean to blurt out like that, but it’s a bad habit of his. Being distressingly honest has its own disadvantages sometimes.

“Really?” he asks. Another long pause as library boy underlines a few sentences on his papers with a neon-green highlighter. “Sorry.”

Then, for the first time ever, library boy looks up from his work and Youngho gets a full look of his face. He’s said before that library boy isn’t unattractive, but that’s an understatement. _Oh_ , Youngho thinks, suddenly struck with realization, oh, he’s _pretty_. Again, not pretty like Taeyong, or Ten, or even Yuta, for that matter; he’s pretty in that modest, old-fashioned way, though Youngho still finds that more than acceptable. He looks stroppy, awkward, a little out of touch, but he has that thoughtful feeling that is emulated in his gentle voice.

Youngho suddenly can’t think.

“No,” Youngho replies, but his mouth has moved on its own, he doesn’t control it anymore. “Uh, it’s okay. Just didn’t expect you to…” His voice trails off, because what, exactly, that he didn’t expect library boy to do?

“You didn’t expect me to talk to you?” he offers, eyes gleaming with something Youngho can’t quite identify. Hilarity? Disdain? Anything else? “Well, that would be rude of me. We had been sharing a table for the last six weeks without exchanging any word. Until yesterday, that is.”

“Holy fu—six weeks?” Youngho grunts in disbelief. “You _counted?_ ”

“I just so happened to remember the exact day I first sat here,” library boy says, shrugging. The collar of his shirt shifts, and Youngho catches a glimpse of collarbones. Just a little bit, before he peels his eyes off library boy’s neck and onto his face. “Anyway, my name is Taeil. We’ve been here for awhile, so I might as well get to know you.”

“Er, okay, sure, why not,” Youngho stutters, feeling more and more self-conscious with every passing second. “I’m Youngho.”

“Oh, Youngho,” Taeil says, and then he smiles, which is just really so fucking sweet, the sweetest of smiles that Taeyong’s smile can’t even compete with. Youngho head starts spinning. “I feel like I’ve heard of your name somewhere before.”

“I don’t know, maybe you’re friends with some of my friends.”

Taeil hummed, tapping his highlighter on his paper. “Maybe,” he says, thoughtful, as his eyes lift to meet Youngho’s again. “Who is it, I wonder. Is it Hansol? Or maybe Ten?”

“Oh. Ten. Yeah, I know a Ten,” Youngho says, straightening up in his seat, hand automatically lifts to scratch the back of his head. “We shared a class last semester.”

“Great. At least we have one mutual friend,” Taeil says, hands clasping together, and Youngho doesn’t exactly see how is it great when they just quite possibly only know Ten in the whole wide world of this university, which has probably more than three hundreds student. Four hundreds. Youngho doesn’t know.

“I don’t know, we might have more mutual friends than we know,” Youngho points rationally.

Taeil smiles, but he doesn’t say anything else, and instead shifts his attention back to his papers. Youngho suddenly realizes he hasn’t even let out anything yet. His Hamlet is still safely tucked inside of his bag the whole time he talked with Taeil. Outrageous.

They spend the next hour in silence. Taeil doesn’t speak again, and Youngho doesn’t initiate any conversation either. It’s not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know what to say. Again, outrageous. Seo Youngho is never rendered speechless, not even when he’s talking with an unfamiliar person, and most definitely not when dealing with such a pretty being that has been sitting with him for the last, how long has it been again? Six weeks. Yeah, six weeks.

God, Youngho’s memories are fucking deteriorating and he’s been asking himself too many questions. Something is absolutely off. Maybe it’s because he’s skipped lunch too much. Maybe it’s karmic law from when he hid Taeyong’s cleaning kit last Sunday so he could avoid housework duty. Maybe it’s something else entirely, something Youngho doesn’t want to tackle to find out what it is.

Youngho tries to fixate his focus back to his book. This used to be easy, diverting his attention away from the world around him, but now that he’s talked to library boy, Taeil, his concentration rate doesn’t stay up for long. He finds himself glancing up every now and then, admiring Taeil’s interminable solemnity in studying, and then wonders why he can’t do the same.

Maybe it’s because he’s too distracted by how dazzling Taeil looks under the gentle lights of the sun.

However awkward the air between them is, conversation is much more possible now that Youngho has found out Taeil’s name. He forces himself to greet him whenever he settles down on the chair in front of him, to which Taeil always responds with that smile that seems to make Youngho’s brain short-circuit. Sometimes Taeil will talk to him first, always with that gentle voice, and Youngho stammers back a nervous reply, later spending time in silence beating himself up for stuttering when Seo Youngho does not fucking stutter ever.

Taeil is weird, but in that endearing kind of way. He seems to be rather slow, too. That, or he’s taking his time, because only after two months being table friends he suddenly says, staring pointedly at his book.

“So you like Shakespeare?”

“Oh,” Youngho says, gaze dropping at his book. He could’ve finished it last month if he wanted to, he’s been reading it for too long, but now with Taeil around, his concentration skills are dropping way too fast for his own liking. That’s why he usually only gets a few pages done per visit, the rest of his time is wasted by admiring how soft Taeil’s hair looks, or how gentle his smile is, or how his hand is laying on the table and Youngho can take it within his so easily—

He’s straying off topic. _Way_ off.

“Yeah. Yeah, I like Shakespeare,” Youngho continues, clearing his throat and flipping a page even though he’s yet to finish the one he was just reading. “Is it weird? I mean I’m no Lit major and I’m always onto this shit.”

Taeil laughs, shrill and vibrant, but enjoyable to the ears (at least to Youngho’s ears). Youngho suddenly realizes he’s never heard of Taeil laughing before, and now that he has, he feels blessed.

“Your major shouldn’t decide what kind of shit you like,” Taeil says, and for a second he looks like he’s about to put his hand on top of Youngho’s, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles at him and says, “You can like whatever you want, even if your friend doesn’t.”

There’s something firm in Taeil’s tone, like he knows for a fact that Youngho _does_ have a friend who dislikes Shakespeare. Youngho frowns, his mind filled with a certain unfeeling asshole, and he blurts out, “How do you know—“

“Jaehyun is kind of popular in my year,” Taeil says. “And I have to admit, he _is_ attractive. There’s only so little who doesn’t know who he is, at least.”

“Oh?” Youngho asks, and he can’t help the slightest of suspicion that is dripping from his tone. “Are you another fan of his?”

“No,” Taeil answers, and his answer rolls out smoothly, not forced, as if he’s expected Youngho to ask him that and he’s already long prepared an answer. “No, Youngho, he’s not my type.”

Youngho’s mind spins, and he wants to say _so what’s your type, then?_ But Taeil is still staring at him, expectant, and Youngho suddenly thinks, what if somehow, in his own strange ways, Taeil too has predicted that Youngho is going to ask him that? So Youngho keeps his mouth shut, unsure and agitated.

And again, to his surprise, Taeil says, “You’re not going to ask what kind of type am I into?”

“Um,” is Youngho’s most intelligent answer, and Taeil just laughs it off, with that small, shrill laugh that Youngho is (not so) lowkey very fond of.

Youngho wants to think about this, he wants to dwell on Taeil’s words just now, but it’s just not possible to stay inside of his mind to brood when Taeil is right in front of him. He’s not exactly doing anything but it still feels like he’s continuously slamming his fists down on Youngho’s chest, making him have a little trouble breathing.

Only days later that a possibility crosses over Youngho’s mind that, _oh, maybe I like him_ , just a little more than necessary, and that’s how he ends up falling for Taeil.                                                               

 

“I have a problem,” Youngho says, as soon as he sits down on the dining table that night. Taeyong is leaning on the kitchen counter, watching as the stew boils in the pot. He’s cooking again tonight after he’s managed to bribe Yuta into taking Youngho grocery shopping, much to the latter’s distaste.

“What kind of problem?” Taeyong asks, and he moves to the other side of the table, ladle still in one hand. He sits down in front of Youngho, and Youngho _stares_ , because for a split second there his eyes are playing tricks on him and he’s seeing a very familiar, light-haired Taeil, sitting in front of him instead of Taeyong. Then he snaps awake out of his reverie.

“Uh, I don’t really know,” Youngho mumbles, and he scratches his head, because how does one categorize this problem? Love problem? Friend problem? Sanity check? “But there’s this guy who sits in the library across of me. Like, he’s been there for a while, actually. We only got to know each other a while ago.”

Taeyong pauses, eyes on Youngho.

“I don’t see how this is going to lead into any kind of problem,” he then says, scrunching his eyebrows together. Youngho knows Taeyong is right, but he still needs to be consoled, and Taeyong is always the best at whatever he does. Except maybe for getting himself dates, he sucks ass at that, but that’s a different case altogether.

“Well, I think,” Youngho begins, and he feels the weight of his own hesitation stagger inside of his chest, bringing his shoulders down. He wants to snort, because he’s Seo Youngho, he doesn’t feel _uncertain_ like ever, but now he does, and he has to swallow down that I Was Born In Chicago Therefore I Can Do Everything Just Fine On My Own attitude. “I think I like him…?”

His voice trails off into a stop, and he’s still staring at Taeyong, unsure, but expectant.

Taeyong might seem ignorant, but Youngho knows for a fact that he’s not. He’s fucking not, really. Taeyong is painfully aware of his surroundings, especially of Youngho’s easy shift in mood, and he catches on the faint trace of hesitancy in Youngho’s tone as easily as Youngho has expected. Taeyong presses on his elbows and leans into him.

“You _think_ you like him?” Taeyong asks, and he’s smiling now, much like how a mother would smile to her child. Youngho knows he should feel disgusted right now because _ugh, Taeyong what are you doing_ , but he finds himself nodding weakly like a lost lamb. “Like, you _think_ , as in you’re not sure of your own feelings? Or is it something else?”

“It’s me,” Youngho says, and he doesn’t know why his voice sounds even more miserable than he already feels. He’s really losing himself. “I have no problem with him. Heck, he’s fine as he is now.”

“Well, what makes you so unsure, then, hm?” Taeyong continues to prod, albeit not callously. “Don’t tell me this guy you have a crush on have a boyfriend or something like that, because if that’s the case, then you know I can’t help even if hell freezes over.”

“Ha, well, yeah, no. I mean, I don’t know if he has a boyfriend or not. What makes me worry is just that… he seems a little hard to approach. He’s hard to read, too. Again, this is not his fault. It’s kinda mine, you know…”

Taeyong hums in understanding, his fingers finding their spot on Youngho’s temple to brush off a falling strand of hair. “I know…?”

“You know I don’t like doing things I don’t know the chance of success of.”

“I know,” Taeyong says. “In short, you’re a fucking coward.”

Youngho winces, but he doesn’t deny anything because honestly, Taeyong’s opinions of him are mostly accurate. In fact, he almost can’t believe the situation right now: he’s sitting on the dining table with Taeyong there consoling him because he’s too afraid to make a move on someone he’s interested in. Like, what even crosses through Taeyong’s mind when he agrees to dwell himself in Youngho’s problem like it’s his sole duty to do so, as if he’s Youngho’s personal consultant (he kinda is). It’s always in a quiet moment like this that Youngho appreciates Taeyong so fucking much; he feels like he doesn’t deserve him, even when the latter has just called him a coward, and even if Taeyong forces him to mop the floor every other day.

“Yeah, I’m a coward,” Youngho says finally, admitting defeat. “But that’s why I have you, so you can assure me that I’m not.”

Taeyong laughs as he paddles over to the stove, turning it off so the stew doesn’t boil over. “Yeah, right. That’s not gonna happen, city boy.”

The conversation ends there because Taeyong is busy serving dinner. When they’re all fed and showered, Taeyong strolls over to Youngho, who is slouched on the couch with his Hamlet. He doesn’t feel like reading for once in his life, and again, Taeyong notices this. He leans on the back of the couch and nudges Youngho’s cheek with his long index finger.

“Too lovesick to read?” Taeyong teases, eyes twinkling with humor. He’s got a laptop under his other arm, earphones dangling out dangerously from his pocket. For a neat freak who keeps the house clean 24/7, Taeyong can be quite ham-fisted sometimes.

“Yeah,” Youngho answers, because it’s true; his mind is too occupied with Taeil. “But well, it’s not important. This’ll pass.”

“I don’t know, Youngho. The best way to deal with your problems is by tackling them head-on, so why don’t you just ask him out?”

Youngho looks up, meeting Taeyong’s worried gaze. “Me? Asking Taeil out? He’ll probably think I’m just joking.”

Taeyong’s hand, who is tangled in between Youngho’s hair as he was just brushing them consolingly, suddenly stops dead in its track. He looks at Youngho in this freezing, unreadable stare that makes Youngho worry if he’s done something wrong.

“What?” Youngho finally asks, when Taeyong is still frozen for a solid ten seconds.

“Taeil?” Taeyong questions in disbelief. “ _Taeil?_ That’s who you like? That’s the boy you sit with in the library all this time?”

“Uh, yeah? He sits in front of me everyday, how can I not like him?”

“Youngho,” Taeyong utters, slowly and gravely. “You’re serious, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You think he’s not going to agree if you ask him out?”

“Yeah?”

Then much to Youngho’s complete horror, Taeyong’s expression shifts into that of a mad man’s and he starts hitting him with his laptop. He aims at every part of Youngho’s body: his head, his shoulder, his stomach, his arms, absolutely and ruthlessly. Youngho yells incoherent curses as he puts his hands up to protect himself, Taeyong cussing at him in such a colorful series of swearwords that Youngho would never expect Taeyong to know the existence of.

Youngho finally rolls off the couch, still hugging himself and glares at Taeyong. He wants to cry but he also wants to get angry, because he’s too lost and he doesn’t know what the hell is happening. He knows one thing, at least: Taeyong really meant the beating; Youngho’s arms and sides are still aching from being hit with the corner of Taeyong’s laptop.

“ _Jesus!_ Taeyong, what the fuck is your problem? This is domestic violence, man!”

“Youngho,” Taeyong says, out of breath, as he stares down at Youngho in extreme distaste. “You’re a fucking idiot if you think Taeil is out of your league.”

Youngho stares at Taeyong, feelings drained out of his whole body. “Are you trying to tell me that he’s not?”

Taeyong doesn’t answer. Instead, his expression unstiffens and he heaves a sigh, giving Youngho his middle finger, and then strides back to their bedroom without saying anything else nor sparing him another glance.

Youngho is dumbfounded.

 

 

 ****  
_From: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_Do you rmmb that time I talked to you about Ten’s roommate_

 

 ****  
_To: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_Y_

 

 ****  
_From: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_Ten told me that he’s going to make a move_

 

_Like, on you_

 

 ****  
_To: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_Rly, fuck me_

 

 ****  
_From: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_But why_

 

 ****  
_To: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_I already like someone_

 

 ****  
_From: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_FUCK_

 

This is apparently a wrong move of Youngho’s, because as soon as he’s sent that, Jaehyun calls him immediately. Even though he literally just lives one floor away, he screams into the phone and Youngho has to hold it at an arm’s length to avoid an early loss of hearing.

 _“What the fuck do you mean you like someone?”_ Jaehyun spews into the phone, and Youngho rolls his eyes. _“What even—I already told him you’re solo!”_

“Well, I _am_ ,” Youngho says, genuinely concerned for his best friend’s vocal wellbeing. “And I wouldn’t mind if you want to set me up? I mean, sure, he sounded scary last time you told me about him, but he might be cute, too.”

 _“Fuck. Fuck, Youngho, that’s not the problem. Now I feel bad for the both of you,”_ Jaehyun says, his loud voice receding and Youngho can hear another voice in the background, saying something like _“hyung are you okay why are you screaming”_. Probably Mark.

“Jesus, calm down, what’s the deal with all of you?” Youngho says, rubbing his temple in circles. There are spots on his body that still hurt from when Taeyong hit him with his laptop yesterday. He suddenly wonders if Jaehyun will beat him up just like that, too. “I just like someone, and that someone probably doesn’t even like me back. Yet. So I don’t see why I shouldn’t reject this friend of yours if he wants to, I quote you, make a move on me.”

 _“Who do you even like? I’ve never heard you talk about anyone,”_ Jaehyun says, his tone upset and amused at the same time, if that’s even possible. _“Are you pining on someone, Youngho? Ugh, I smell a loser.”_

“Shut the hell up,” Youngho shoots back, but he’s grinning as his mind flees back to his library boy, the light-haired, soft Taeil. “And yeah, I’m pining the hell out on him, so what? I’m a healthy young adult and I’m allowed to fall in love whenever I want.”

 _“I never said you can’t, man, I’m happy for you, really,”_ Jaehyun says. _“Maybe you’re right. Should I just tell my friend that you’re already interested in someone else?”_

“Nah, Jae, save him the heartbreak. I’ve broken enough hearts as I am now,” Youngho says. “And plus it’s not like I’m already dating anyone? I’m kinda curious as to why he likes me, this friend of yours.”

 

_“I know right? Why would someone even like you, that goes way beyond my head.”_

 

“That’s rude, kid, I’ve probably landed more game than you.”

 

_“Don’t act all high and mighty just because you were born two years earlier, swine. I will end you.”_

 

Youngho chuckles, and he lets Jaehyun sputter a few more (affectionate) insults at him before he ends the call. A few minutes later, Jaehyun texts him the time of their supposed date-meeting thing. Youngho isn’t really looking forward to it, but he doesn’t want to make Jaehyun (and possibly this friend of his) feel like shit, so he agrees.

He’s really just that kindhearted.

 

 ****  
_To: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_If all goes well I’ll introduce you to TY_

 

 ****  
_From: Unfeeling A$$hole_  


 

_Who the fuck is TY_

 

(Youngho snorts. Jaehyun won’t keep acting like he doesn’t know his roommate’s name when he’ll finally get the chance to really _look_ at Taeyong. He’s just messing with Youngho now because he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Youngho really looks forward to that day where he’ll see the look of pure shock on Jaehyun’s face for not realizing the living art that Youngho has lived with for the past year or so.)

 

On the day of the date, Jaehyun picks Youngho up from his room. Remembering what he’s thought of before, about letting Jaehyun meet Taeyong, Youngho says, “Taeyong has class today. I’ll introduce him to you sometimes soon.”

“Who?”

“My fucking roommate, Jung, I will murder you if you don’t start remembering his name properly,” Youngho says, flicking Jaehyun’s head, but the younger barely flinches. Damn, he has thick skin. “Anyway, where are we going? The café?”

“Yeah, the closest one from campus,” Jaehyun replies, checking his watch. “I’ll leave as soon as he arrives, so be good, ‘kay?” He talks like Youngho is a child and he’s dropping him off at the kindergarten.

“’Kay,” Youngho says, trying to hide the apathy in his voice. Thankfully, Jaehyun doesn’t catch on his disinterest, and the both of them walk to the café in silence. Jaehyun looks slightly nervous, but Youngho doesn’t prod; this is probably more nerve-racking to Jaehyun than it is to Youngho. After all, Jaehyun’s friendship is probably on the line here.

“Is he cute?” Youngho asks, trying to calm Jaehyun down by engaging him in a conversation.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jaehyun says, straightening his hunched shoulders. Youngho muses if he should put his arm around Jaehyun, see if the younger needs it, but he doesn’t. “Like I said, he’s usually quiet, but when he talks about you he’s strangely devoted. Or so Ten said.”

“Really?” Youngho asks, thoughtful. “Well, he can’t be bad then.” _Compared to Taeil_ , Youngho adds silently, feeling a little uncomfortable sting inside of his chest as he retraces his memories of the light-haired boy. He kinda misses him now; he hasn’t visited the library in a few days due to his packed class schedules, and he doesn’t really see Taeil toddling around campus, either. Even if Taeil isn’t exactly open and hard to converse with, Youngho really likes him.

They enter the café, which is quite empty since it’s work hour. There’s a short line in front of the cashier, and Jaehyun walks past Youngho to the bathroom after shaking his head when Youngho asks if he wants Youngho to buy him anything. The usual Jaehyun would’ve jumped in excitement and pick the most ridiculous latte drink he could think of just to make Youngho’s day a little harder, but seeing how this little risky date is burdening him more than anything, Youngho doesn’t say anything else. He watches as the younger disappears into the bathroom.

He’s just standing there alone for a few minutes, wondering what should he order, when someone next to him suddenly declares, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Youngho says, voice low as he steps aside from where he was standing, staring down at none other than Moon Taeil himself. His heart jumps so high it’s almost landing in his brain, his throat is suddenly dry and his fingers shaking. He doesn’t know if he’s really fortunate or if he’s actually shitton out of luck right now. “Taeil!”

“Hi there,” Taeil says, and he’s doing that thing when he’s smiling and making Youngho want to bang his head on the nearest flat surface. “You here alone?”

Youngho struggles not to stutter.

“No, I’m with a friend.”

“Oh, Jaehyun.”

“Yeah, it’s Jaehyun—wait, how did you know?”

At that time Jaehyun chooses to walk out from the bathroom with hands in his pocket. He looks over at Youngho, making a half smile, half scowling thing, then his eyes land on Taeil, who’s standing next to Youngho. His expression shifts to something resembling liberation.

“Oh, you’re here, hyung,” Jaehyun says, and he smiles politely at Taeil. “I’ll take my leave then.”

“Are you sure?” Taeil asks, and Jaehyun nods. “Thanks for the help.”

“Yeah, no probs. See you later, man,” he adds to Youngho, and waves before he leaves in hurried steps, as if he couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. He probably couldn’t, that little shit.

“What just happened?” Youngho questions, because lately he’s been having a hard time comprehending the situations around him. “You _knew_ Jaehyun? And what help? Why can’t everything around me be fathomable?”

But Taeil being Taeil, just smiles at him as if he cares absolutely nothing of Youngho’s crisis. “Come on now, let’s order and we’ll talk later.”

Youngho pays for Taeil’s drink too (because no matter how confused he is, Youngho is still a refined man at heart), and Taeil smiles appreciatively at him in response. While they’re waiting for their drinks, they’re both standing side by side, Taeil’s arm slightly pressed against Youngho’s, suddenly the gears inside of Youngho’s head stop spinning. It clicks.

He looks at Taeil, mouth arid. “You’re the guy.”

Taeil pauses. “I’m sorry?”

Youngho swallows audibly, brokenly.

“You’re the guy. Ten’s roommate. The Psychology student. The one who asked Jaehyun if he was dating me. The one who’s…” _The one who’s interested in me_ , Youngho wants to finish, but he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

Taeil doesn’t even look the slightest of astonished, or embarrassed, or anything, really. He’s just as calm as ever, staring at Youngho in his usual gentle, kindhearted way.

“Yes, I’m the guy,” Taeil finally says. “Is something wrong?”

 _Oh_ , Youngho thinks. _So this is how it is._

“Everything’s wrong,” Youngho says, but his mind thinks the opposite; his whole body is washed down with relief and gratitude, and before he loses himself to the nervousness that is creeping just over the corner, Youngho grabs Taeil’s hand and holds it within his. It’s something he’s wanted to do for a long time now, to hold Taeil’s warm hand with his own, and Taeil lets him. “Everything’s wrong, Taeil, but damn, for once this feels so fucking _right_.”

There’s just so many things Youngho wants to say right now: his feelings, mostly, and how Taeil connects to all the events that have been happening in his life as of lately. He wants to cry over how this innocent-looking light-haired boy has turned both his life and heart upside down. He wants to do all of those things but he’s too disoriented to do anything, too drunk on Taeil’s presence, too befuddled by the way Taeil squeezes his hand. So instead he chooses to say the easiest thing he can think of.

“Okay, first of all, I really like you.”

Taeil doesn’t answer. He doesn’t answer a lot of things. But Youngho is not complaining, especially not when Taeil beams sweetly at him after his tacky declaration and pulls him down to press their lips together.

 

“Are you seriously telling me that the guy that you sat with all this time in the library, also the same guy that you pined on hopelessly, also Ten’s roommate, also the same guy that I set you up with, is Taeil?” Jaehyun asks, voice heavy with incredulity that he’s trying very hard to suppress. “Talk about coincidence. Talk about fucking cliché, dude.”

“Yup,” Youngho says, pointing at Jaehyun with his straw, a drip of decaf falling onto the table. “Sometimes life just wants you to be a little cliché, Jae, you can’t refuse that.”

“Jesus, this is a lot to process,” Jaehyun says again, smacking his hand on his temple and it stays there as he stares blankly at Youngho. “Oh my God. Like seriously, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s so fucking cliché it _hurts_.”

“Well, at least your reactions are more fascinating than Taeyong’s. He literally just stared at me and said, ‘I fucking told you’ and then left. He didn’t even tell me that he was _friends_ with Taeil, that asshole.”

“Would it make things easier even if he did?” Jaehyun ponders. “Probably not.”

“Thank God you didn’t actually tell him that one time when I said I already like someone, though,” Youngho says. “That could’ve potentially started any kind of needless drama. I’m still grateful over that, really. This was hard enough without any more problems hurdling my way.”

“No shit, dammit,” Jaehyun exhales a long breath, and he falls back to his chair. “You must be glad everything unfolds by itself so well, yeah?”

Youngho nods keenly, almost like a child, and he must’ve looked really ghastly because Jaehyun scrunches his nose and makes a gesture like he’s about to thwack Youngho with his cup of iced tea.

“Maybe we are _meant_ to be together,” Youngho says dreamily. “Like, super meant to be. It’s just fate, you know?”

Jaehyun really thwacks him with his hand this time.

“Shakespeare isn’t fucking cliché so why are _you?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I personally think this work doesn't live up to my expectation, as I wrote this while I wasn't on my 100% uuuugh. I feel like this is a bit rushed and boring compared to my previous stories and I didn't quite do Johnil justice. But at least! I enjoyed writing Johnny and Jaehyun's friendship here! So that's good.
> 
> Anyways, as always, thank you so much for reading! feedbacks are always appreciated!


End file.
